In the old days, I imagined fish and moving water all silver and loud. Now, things are maybe more rehearsed, but the fish and water seem to be much softer than before. Now I imagine them in the silky green water, connected to a damp landscape cradling rivers. These fish would crawl into the forest if the rain kept up just a wee bit longer, and in the early morning mist they could be found in the trickling little holes that dot the mossy floodplain forest.
In the broad, cobbled waters they become part of a enthralling choreography of movement, shadow and soft sounds. Stare long enough, and the sound goes away and there is just the movement of shadows. Now there is only slightly more unknown than known in this water. Just enough to let me crawl back into the water if the rain would let up for just a wee bit.